


it's calm under the waves

by BlackBlood1872



Series: without a sound [1]
Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Depression, Episode: e075 The Ben Arnold Show, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, The Void, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24067189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackBlood1872/pseuds/BlackBlood1872
Summary: The first episode of The Ben Arnold Show goes off without a hitch. Sammy never shows up at the event.(Episode 75 AU)
Relationships: Sammy Stevens/Jack Wright
Series: without a sound [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738723
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	1. have you ever seen the rain

**Author's Note:**

> What if Sammy's plan worked? AU where he was able to enter the Void in episode 75.

Sammy never shows up.

Ben and the rest of them run through an entire show—a whole four hours worth of the hopeful Sammy and Ben Show. It turns out to be the just Ben Arnold Show, just like Merv advertised.

Ben feels frantic. He's shaking. It's like he's back in college and just slammed five energy drinks after an all-nighter in the hopes of making it through another 8 hours of lectures. Emily is a calm pillar beside him, the one thing keeping him from flying off the walls or bursting out the auditorium doors and racing through the streets searching for his best friend. But even she's affected by his absence, and none of them can stop looking at the doors.

Sammy never showed up. And Ben doesn't know where he is.

"He said he'd be here," Ben repeats, for the who-knows-th time. It's the only thing he can think. He said he'd come. Sammy wouldn't leave without saying goodbye.

Sammy can't be gone. But he didn't show up.

"Maybe he just—" Troy starts but doesn't continue. There are no excuses. Sammy wouldn't have slept through this. He wouldn't have forgotten.

Ben's pulse pounds in his ears and his gut squirms with dark possibilities—but he can't think about that. He can't handle what sort of rabbit hole he might fall into if he takes a moment to _think_ about what Sammy might have done.

He said he'd be here. He wouldn't lie. He wouldn't have left. He wouldn't have _left_.

"Please tell me he didn't _leave_ ," Ben chokes out.

Emily tugs him into her arms and he shakes and forces himself not to cry. He doesn't know. It's just a theory—an awful thought that burrowed into his brain and isn't getting out but there's no _proof_. He won't cry unless there's proof.

Worst case—Sammy's on the road back to California. That's it. There's no case worse than that. Ben won't let himself think of it.

…but Sammy didn't show up. And Ben doesn't know _where he is_.


	2. it's nothing to cry about

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy goes on a hike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Death Cab for Cutie's [I Will Follow You Into The Dark](https://youtu.be/9FhRQt1vm3A)

Perdition Wood is like all the other forests he's ever hiked in. Sammy hasn't been hiking in years, but he remembers when he used to. This wood isn't any different than any of the others.

There is a presence to this place, though, a heavy feeling that hangs in the air, that weighs on his shoulders the further he walks. It's not hard to breathe, and there's nothing in the air to coat his tongue in unpleasant ways. But that doesn't stop him from reacting like there is. It feels like there should be all these physical signs that this is an evil place. It should be obvious.

Instead, there's just a forest, and his own dread. It's underwhelming.

And then he finds it. There's no handy sign, no label that proclaims this to be the Devils Doorstep. But it is. Sammy knows it is.

The entrance to the cave sits in dense brush, almost fully concealed by leaves and branches. But the plants don't cover the entrance; they seem to shy away from the edges, as if repelled by a barrier. Sammy can see into it, can see the first few feet of packed dirt before the rest of the path is shrouded in darkness. There's no actual door, not that Sammy thought there would be, but there is a downward slant in the ground leading to the cave, and then two roughly carved stone blocks in front of the mouth. They're incredibly old, covered in moss and entrenched in the ground. Sammy wonders who could have made them. Wonders _why_.

But there are no answers to these questions—not out here. Maybe not even in there. He doesn't think it'll matter to him anyway, once he's inside.

Sammy walks through the silence to the door. The woods have been quiet and empty for minutes, hours, perhaps even the entire time he's been here. He only notices now because his footsteps are quiet too—the leaves don't crunch underneath, and the foliage doesn't rustle as he moves it aside.

He has to duck to enter the cave. But, a few steps in, he finds that he doesn't have to slouch anymore—that the cave inside is tall enough to allow him. Sammy lifts the flashlight he'd almost forgotten about, sweeping it slowly over the inside of the cave as he continues to take slow steps.

It's small, more a crevasse than a cave. Slightly higher than he is tall, and only three or four feet wide, close enough that he could touch both walls if he reached out. He doesn't. In front of him, the path stretches farther than his light can reach, no curves or bends or side passages. The only path is forwards, and there is no end in sight.

It's dark. Of course it is, Sammy thinks; there are no holes in the ceiling to let in light. The only light comes from the entrance, and that fades about a yard into the Door. Sammy's flashlight gives him some comfort, for a time. But as he walks, the beam weakens, flickers—and dies. He shakes it a few times, hits it, but it doesn't come back on. He didn't really expect it to. It doesn't matter though. The ground is level and he hasn't bumped into anything yet. He doesn't need a light to see by.

Light won't guide him to where he's going.

Sammy doesn't know how long he's been walking. It feels like it's been hours. He's so tired, his legs ache and his mouth is dryer than he can ever remember, but he can't stop. He knows that if he stops, that'll be as far as he gets. He won't stop until he finds Jack.

He keeps walking.

* * *

The whispers start up eventually. Sammy doesn't know how long it takes. Too long. Not long enough. It feel like he's been walking for days by time he hears it, a faint rustling of impossible wind, so terribly loud after that perpetual silence. Under the breeze, he can hear the whispers, indistinct voices talking to and over each other, nothing recognizable about them besides the fact that they _are_ voices. He can't make out any of the words. He can't tell if it's hundreds of voices or just one, echoed and layered and distorted like the audio version of a hall of mirrors.

Then, as he gets closer, he hears paper rustling. The soft sound of a baby crying somewhere far away. Laughter, deep and high and low all at once, bouncing around like some horrible parody of the Doppler effect—quiet to start, distant—then closer, behind him, in front, in his ear.

Sammy wants to freeze, to turn tail and _run_ —but he can't. He has to keep moving. He's so close.

One step. Two. It feels like he's trying to walk through water, now; not physically, but there's something at his ankles that slows his progress, wraps around and tries to hold him back. He presses through, gritting his teeth and stomping forward.

He keeps walking. It keeps getting harder. There's a resistance in the air, a barrier of some sort that he has to fight through. Has to push against with all his strength. He has to keep going.

Jack is on the other side of this. He must be.

Finally— _finally_ —Sammy breaks through. He stumbles for the first time in hours (days, weeks) and resists the urge to stop, to steady himself. He takes small steps forward, slow steps, but still moving. (If he stops, he'll never find—)

"Oh Sammy," a voice whispers. Sammy's breath catches in his throat. He stops, and looks up.

There's no light in this place, never has been, so it should be impossible to see—and yet, when Sammy lifts his head, he sees _him_ with perfect clarity.

"Jack," he breathes.

Jack Wright stares back at him and there's only pain in his eyes.

"Sammy," he says again, faint and heartbroken and so, _so_ defeated. "What have you done?"

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read [Off Air] chapters 2 and 5, congrats! You've already read this story. Also, sorry, I guess.  
> I'm posting these chapters as their own fic now cuz they are, technically, their own separate fic. Also because I miiiiight continue this au?? I haven't figured out how yet, just that I've gotten back into writing for kfam and might go through my older stuff and pick some things up.  
> this one is complete tho. anything new will probably be in a separate work.


End file.
